


the same damn hunger

by thefudge



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs With Teeth, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: 2x11 compliant. Simon wants to hug him, but that's not what Jace needs from him.





	the same damn hunger

_...we're not lovers, we're just strangers_  
_With the same damn hunger_  
_To be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all_

 

 

 “Stop it.” 

His tone is perfunctory, and his meaning couldn’t be clearer standing there with his hands in his pockets like a monument of roguish coolness.

Jace doesn’t need or want hugs, certainly not from Simon.

Yet there is a wrench thrown in his guise, because his chest is rising a little faster than usual. He’s always a little impatient with the Downworlder, but today he’s particularly antsy. It must be the recent blood exchange.  

“I just…” Simon mumbles, lowering his hands, darting his head to the side. His voice trails off with a hint of disappointment.

“No.”  Jace dips his head to catch his eye, as if to reinforce the barrier between them, but it only brings him closer. Simon thinks he sees a golden sheen around his irises, but it must be a trick of the light. The sun is shining so bright today, and he’s savoring it thanks to the cocky Shadowhunter who won’t take a hug for a thank you. “Never.”

Despite his rebuttals, Jace’s face is inches away and his expression is fierce, almost warm. Simon has learned to read between the lines. This is Jace being…familiar.

Simon bites down on his lip in a sheepish display. As if to say, there's always next time.

Jace wishes he could smack that look off his face. He has a feeling Simon hasn’t got the point, that he, Jace, doesn’t want him near him.

He catches Clary glancing at them with a fond smile. His jaw clicks in annoyance. One day he’ll grind his teeth to the bone. He used to be in love with that girl, or some variation of it. It seems like a long time ago, but it was only weeks. There’s just a hollow fondness for that red hair now; she’s grown to be family even if she isn’t his sister. But there’s still a sinking, gnawing feeling in his stomach whenever he sees Simon holding her hand. He doesn’t know why it still bothers him if she has stopped exercising control over his heart.

Simon brushes past him, as if to labor the point, and it makes Jace want to knock him down and stand over him as he did with Alec previously that morning. But somehow when he pictures this innocent scenario, the back of his throat itches and his muscles clench. He just has to get back to normal.

 

 

“Just feel something,” Clary tells him deliberately. It sounds like she’s trying to coax a confession out of him. “Whether you think it clouds your judgment or not.”

Jace balls his fists, because if he opens them, he fears something will spilling out.

 

 

His senses are clouded by the target in front of him and the need to destroy it. He dashes forward and attacks the punching bag with the fury of disorder. His body is a sword, tearing and slashing, fists and feet growing sharp edges that keep him from feeling the ground.

This is why he doesn’t hear him, isn’t prepared for him.

Jace stands down for a moment to catch his breath and it only takes this short interval for the vampire to make his move. He tackles him from behind.

When Jace turns around it’s too late, Simon has his arms around him.

“See, still got a hug out of you.”

At first, he’s frozen stiff in his embrace, which is surprisingly strong. He always forgets Simon can be lethal. His body distracts him for a few unguarded moments, but then the fury returns, amplified to new heights.

How _dare_ he?

Jace barrels into him, the way he's been taught his whole life. This is how you respond to threats. This is how you subdue them. He pummels him with his fists, not even sparing his face. One punch hits him square in the chin. Simon gasps, taken aback. He’s slow to catch his bearings. He tries to hold the Shadowhunter back, but he didn’t come here to fight, so it doesn’t take long for Jace to slam him against the wall. He’s pretty sure he managed to crack a rib.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing? Didn’t I tell you never to do that? Didn’t I make myself clear?” Jace growls, and the gold in his eyes turns into a scorching bronze.

“Whoa…I didn’t mean to…” Simon pants.

“Didn’t mean to _what_?”

“Clary said, she said you needed a friend –”

“Oh, so it was _Clary_ who put you up to this,” and it almost sounds like an accusation.

“No... I wanted to come see you."

"So you could sneak up on me like a _coward_?" Jace snaps. 

"It was just a prank, okay?  I, uh -  I like pissing you off, though I can’t say I’m enjoying this right now,” Simon replies, looking down at Jace’s hands fisted into his shirt.

And they both become aware of the stifling proximity, the way their bodies are aligned, the breaths they can’t help but share. Jace’s palms are burning but he doesn’t remove them from Simon’s shirt.

“I don’t need a friend,” he spits, pushing Simon further into the wall. He likes the feeling of control. The vampire always brings out something ugly and satisfying in him.

Simon’s hands reach out and grip his wrists. He could apply pressure to push him away, but somehow that’s the last thing he wants to do. “You always say that, but you need to hear this. What happened with the Soul Sword was only an accident, it wasn’t your fault, you couldn't have known…”

Jace brings his face closer. “Don’t worry about me, _Downworlder_. You’ll soon feel what it’s like to be responsible for the death of hundreds. Your nature will eventually prevail.”

“That’s – that’s Valentine talking.”

The mention of his illusory father brings him up short.  Jace’s hands uncoil from his shirt, but he doesn’t let go completely.

His expression is hard to read, but Simon knows a lot about hidden pain, the way it dwells under the skin and festers.

“And you’re not like him,” Simon adds softly.

Jace laughs a brittle laugh. “You have no idea what I’m like. You think all I need is a hug and I’ll be all better…that’s not what I need from you.”

The words slip out before he can shove them in the back of his throat.

_That’s not what I need from you._

Simon’s eyes widen and his mouth falls slightly open. There is blood on his lower lip from Jace’s fists.

“What – what do you need?”

Jace can’t stop staring at the blistered lip. He clicks his jaw. “I ...I need you to stay away from me.”

“Why?”

There are many reasons why. And Jace could come up with several demeaning insults, if he weren’t too close for comfort, if Simon’s breath weren't tickling his chin.

The silence is deafening. He can hear his own heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears like he's in the midst of battle. 

Simon licks his lips. “What do you need from me, Jace?”

 

 

Somehow it’s Jace who ends up with his back against the wall and his fingers sunk into Simon’s hair. He couldn’t tell you how it happened. He can’t break the moment into pieces, because if he does, he knows he will unravel. He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to open his eyes because he will see the vampire kneeling in front of him and he will come too fast and it will be over.  Unlike many things in his life, he wants this to last.

 

_"What do you need from me, Jace?"_

_Simon leaned forward until their lips almost brushed. It wasn’t much of an effort since they were already so unbearably close. A phantom kiss, just a hint of tongue, noses rubbing against each other, Jace’s stubble tickling his lips, a strangled breath - and they both broke away, almost afraid to continue._

_Jace darted his head to the side, his lips at Simon’s ear. “Your – your mouth.”_

_And instinctively, Simon understood. His fingers traveled south, making short work of Jace’s zipper._

 

He even tastes good. Simon holds it against him. He resents that he couldn’t stay away, that Jace has a magnetic pull on him, like liquid sun ( _literally_ ), but he’s pretty sure he has gotten under his skin too. Jace wouldn’t be fisting his hair like this, tugging at it with belabored breaths, if he were immune.

His groans are subdued, but every time Simon swirls his tongue against the tip of his cock, the Shadowhunter slams a fist into the wall so hard the whole training room echoes.

If someone came down here right now, what would they think?

He doesn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care if he wanted to. He’s addicted to the way Jace is reacting to him. He strokes his shaft lazily and grazes the sensitive flesh with his fangs, because he knows that Jace loves pain, that he can’t distinguish between agony and pleasure. The Shadowhunter curses out loud, damning all the angels, their sacred names pouring from his mouth in a river of filth. _Eremiel_ and _Raziel_ and _Nuriel_ and _Jahoel_ and _Sachiel_ , all of them dedicated to Simon.

Simon takes him deep in his mouth and keeps him there. His precum tastes like the rays of the sun. 

When Jace comes, there is no need for angels’ names. There is a sound like a tearing and he cries out, dropping his head in his chin, gripping his vampire as he drinks every drop of him.

 

(Later, Jace will sit on the roof of the Institute and he will look at the night sky and he will know that Clary was right, that he can’t hold back his feelings. But right now, with Simon kissing the hollow of his thigh, he doesn’t need to feel at all, because everything he wants is already here.)

 


End file.
